Deception
by White Maid
Summary: A few one-shots with Town of Salem. / The night is a dangerous for those who are suspicious and vulnerable. Let's see what's behind the scenes, shall we?
1. Chapter 1

Leo couldn't remember what the hell happened to him last night. He had been asleep, plotting lies to try and get him hung since the last few deaths were already leading to him. But so far, he was wondering why he wasn't in bed.

Slowly, the male moved his fingers and panic filled his heart, eyes finding nothing but darkness as he realized he was tied down and blindfolded. Biting the gag out of fear, he figured he was somewhere in his own home? Or another's. The walls would've been thin then.

"So...you're awake." The male stiffened incredibly, feeling his own shoulders faintly quiver as footsteps echoed in his ears, a hand grabbing his hair and painfully forcing his head back. A muffled yell seeped into the gag as he felt his chest heave in fear, a hum of the kidnapper allowing warm breath to hit his ear. "Don't try to struggle. Or you'll get this."

All struggles stopped at the cold blade at his throat, eyes squeezing tight under the blindfold. This was the killer!? The man's voice was one he didn't recognize though... "Good boy. I'll let you go if you do me a favor. Two, technically. Willing to obey my orders?"

Leo gave the faintest of nods, whining meekly in the back of his throat and feeling the knife against every crevice of his throat. "Good boy," he mused, letting go of his hair and allow him to straighten. "Kill yourself for me. Attract the mafia and gain attention. Have knives and documents. I want you to be lynched. And you will not mention me at all. Am I clear?"

He nodded quickly, feeling the knife graze all the way down his throat to his collarbone. "Good. Now...I'll see you dead in the morning, my poor, poor Jester~." Leo felt the hilt of the weapon hit his temple and he blacked out entirely. But as he woke, he took up the new name.

Jester.


	2. Chapter 2

Chess. A game for the intelligent, and possibly the old. But then again, who said the game of intelligence was for those who were over 50? The young man tapped the black Knight over with his own, moving to lean back into his seat, soon moving his gaze out the window. The investigator sat in front of him, tapping his nail on the checkered board of white and black.

"A wise move," he stated, causing the somewhat younger fellow to look back at him, a blond eyebrow raising upwards. Was it wise? Or did the other not see the multitude of ways he could get him? With this on his mind, the twenty-five year old took a sip of the wine he had bought from the jailor, who said he no longer drank.

"Thank you." The click and shuffle of chess pieces cued him to look back at the board, eyeing the maneuver of the pawn. With one swift hand, the blond took up a piece between his fingers and let it dance over and around the board. His plan had played out perfectly, and the other heard the fatal word of "checkmate."

The investigator blinked and then softly laughed, blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight that surrounded both men. "Very good, very good! An impressive match, Mr. Mayor."

The Mayor nodded slowly in thanks and then passed him a light smile. "I'm glad I was able to humor you. Though, it is late now, and surely there…will be evidence of death tomorrow. …In some way, the killer deems us all as disposable."

At this, the blond soon stood, moving to look out the window and at the town square, where the noose swayed in the wind. The investigator stood behind him. He could tell from the reflection, and soon the hand on his shoulder. "Yes. Yes he does."

The Mayor let his eyes dance around the window for a moment before that hand tightened harshly. With his hair standing on end, the mayor attempted to turn around and address what the other was doing, but was soon forced up against the glass, the glimmer of a knife against his neck.

"We are all disposable, Mayor. I'll make sure they know this too when they come to find you."

_Mr. Moore has died today by the hands of the serial killer. His role was Mayor. The deathnote reads: We're all disposable, like the pawns of a chess match. Dare to duel?_


	3. Chapter 3

**(Warning for a younger audience. Heavy language and sexual content below. Read at your own risk. )**

It had been just a simple…little fuck up. A job that had been used right, but one that lead to the downfall of the individual who had accepted such a role. It was simple. Just keep the person from doing what they wanted to do, or what they had planned to do. Things had changed for the Escort.

The rustle of the bed sheets was a sound that she might hear in her last moments whilst sweat coated the back of her neck and along her torso. The heat of her skin matched the hot breath by her ear, and it was barely a distraction from the cuffs that locked her wrists to the headboard of the bed. Her hands were beginning to ache, but it slowly attempted to fade away to the back of her mind as her toes curled in bliss.

Her head rolled back in ecstasy, but it didn't last long as hands rubbed along every bruise that she had just acquired that night. A nip at her hip summoned a muffled gasp into the gag, but she slowly relaxed afterward.

_Why the hell am I relaxing? I shouldn't be doing this. _Her thoughts, muddled by bliss and her own fantasies, came to her slowly. It was barely a wakeup call, even when her bedmate hovered above her, running their hands along her bruising neck.

"How does it feel? Bleeding all over the sheets in more ways than one, you really are quite the whore." A chuckle came from their throat, causing a shudder to roll down her spine. It occurred twice when they showed their hands, callused in the ways of their handiwork. "Your blood is on my hands, darling. Wet and sticky."

For the first time, a flush crossed over her face and she nervously wiggled around. Hands on her cheeks forced her to look into the eyes of the killer, the slits of the pupils proving that the full moon was close. "You may be lucky. I may keep you around, and keep you alive." They leaned down to nibble on her bruised neck and ear, causing her to moan and shudder.

"Be a good girl and behave for me, and I'll let you go. Okay?" The Escort nodded slowly, and she was rewarded with the feeling of the cloth gag being removed and a pair of lips crashing into her own. She could've melted as those clawed hands ran over her skin, almost lovingly.

Maybe tonight…wasn't so bad in the arms of a werewolf.


End file.
